It’s 4 AM and I can’t get to sleepnAin’t got the patience to be counting sheepnAnd dreaming’s just another task to completenAnd give to my teacher for a gradennMy mind’s like open close machinerynIt don’t stop to celebrate the scenerynAnd I can tell tomorrow’s sure to benAnother math test of a daynnWhere no matter how I trynMy score is never highnAnd the time just passes by like empty lines across the pagenI’m an empty pagennWell me I’m sending out my own policenThe president sends troops into the Middle EastnI guess we’ll both kill in the name of peacenWell goddamn it feels a lot like warnnSo now we’re either terrorists or war machinesnAnd we try to fit the world into our TV screensnMe I’m adding labels to my own daydreamsnThat I tuck safely in a drawernnSometimes it seems like they get lost insidenThe horizon of the endless cage I live insidenOther times it crushes in so tight my walls collidenPinning all my hopes and dreams down on the floornnSometimes I wish I could just let ‘em outnIt don’t help when I’m politely speaking outnSo now all I can do is scream it outnLike I’ve never done beforennLike my voice alone could lift me from these barsnStop picking scabs off my own scarsnI turn my back to shining stars and the comfort of the moonnMy pain’s concealed, like knives could heal these woundsnnNow I’m walking on a balance beamnA soldier aims his gun to keep me playing meannI know I’m two feet from the ground, but in my mind it seemsnLike the earth’s ten thousand feet belownnnBut then the truth should come as no surprisenThe soldier’s gun is just a simple disguisen‘Cause when you look deep into those tearful eyesnYou see his dream of letting gonnCause I can struggle, I can fightnI can try to get it right nI can box my mind in tight, but lord I never feel the breezenI cry a song, I fall down on my kneesnnLike a soldier trying to leave his wicked past behindnI put my weapons to the ground, but I’m still running blindnLooking for the strength to face this damn oppressive mindnTugging at its leash to carry me away nnSo I know sometimes I fuck up on these tasks for younAnd I try to hide these scars behind a mask for younBut the blood is there, and all I know to ask of younIs that you love me anywaynnBut their eyes can melt my burning heart to cold againnAnd I’m competing, working, striving for the gold againnSometimes I wish that I were six months old againnAnd I wouldn’t need to work to earn my lovennBut no one gets a second chance to livenI guess my best bet’s to learn how to forgivenAnd keep giving all that I know how to givenAnd hope to god that it’s enoughnnAnd give myself some room to grow outsidenThese tiny boxes of my mindnWhere the soldier leaves this war behind, and me I offer him my prayernThat he’ll learn to see, aren’t we all beautifully impairedn